


and i see black (while you see white)

by inkwellhell (georgewashingmachine)



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Closure, Draco is a good dad, Gen, Heavy Angst, Heteronormativity, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter, Scorpius Needs a Hug, father & son feels, lots of dark world angst, time travel is weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 04:44:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18887434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/georgewashingmachine/pseuds/inkwellhell
Summary: "He wishes Albus were awake, so maybe they could work through this together. He’d told some people about the Dark World—McGonagall, Harry, Ginny, Albus, Draco—told them about how Draco had been Head of Magical Law Enforcement, how he did anything they wanted him to, but not how violent he’d been with his son.When he looks at his father, now, all he can see is himself being pulled onto the table, Draco looming over him menacingly, scolding him for using Astoria’s name in vain. All he can see isviolence."Scorpius copes with his trauma from the Dark World.





	1. in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> title is from "like a star" by mike krol
> 
> i'm not a huge hp fan so i'm sorry if some things are wrong. i just had to write something after seeing cursed child. and this is that. enjoy 10k words of scorpius angst :)
> 
> also btw i used a lot of actual dialogue from the book (copyright don't come for me those words aren't mine) and the story jumps around a lot and skips around some scenes bc im not abt to copy this entire play. that's it have a nice day

Even though he had his head above the water, Scorpius felt like he was drowning.

“Potter? Albus Potter? There’s no such student.” Umbridge—the _headmistress_ —says the words like they should be obvious. “In fact, there hasn’t been a Potter at Hogwarts for years—and that boy didn’t turn out so well. Not so much rest in peace, Harry Potter, more rest in perpetual despair. Total troublemaker.”

Scorpius can hardly make himself entertain the thought, let alone say them aloud. “Harry Potter’s dead?” And if Harry Potter’s dead, that means…

No. There—There’s still a chance. Maybe he died after…Maybe he just doesn’t go to Hogwarts?

In hindsight, that was a stupid thought, but Scorpius wasn’t exactly worried about making sense right now. Of course Albus Severus Potter would go to Hogwarts. He just didn’t want to think about the alternative.

He’s forced to think about the alternative, however, when Umbridge confirms his fears.

“…Harry Potter died over twenty years ago as part of that failed coup on the school—he was one of those Dumbledore terrorists we bravely overthrew at the Battle of Hogwarts.”

After that sentence, Scorpius had stopped listening, blankly watching her lips move without any sound coming out of them, like the world had been put on mute.

If Harry Potter died in the Battle of Hogwarts, then…

Albus had never existed.

Scorpius hopes the water of the lake hides the fearful tears that spill over onto his cheeks.

He hardly has the time to mourn (no, don’t say that, he’s not…) Albus, after he tunes back into reality and catches the end of Umbridge’s dialogue.

“…entirely ruining Voldemort Day.”

“Voldemort Day?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Scorpius quickly picks up on the ways of this world. Well, some of them. He hasn’t quite mastered the whole _For Voldemort and Valor_ thing yet, or pieced together who he even is in this reality, but he finds out the hard way of how he should act.

There had been hints, earlier, things he had missed when he was busy worrying about Albus. He remembers his first conversation with Umbridge, vaguely recalls the way she had called him a _Mudblood_ for acting so strangely in the lake. He had zoned out for that part, but now that he wasn’t so dazed, he had learned to read the lips of his muted memories. 

He learns to be obedient, learns to not question things. Learns what wants to be heard, for the most part. More often than he’d like to admit, his curiosity gets the better of him and he slips back into his old self, but sometimes he thinks he’s a pretty good actor.

Like now, for example.

“Scorpius. Thank you so much for coming to see me.”

“Headmistress.”

“Scorpius, I’ve thought for a long time that you have Head Boy potential, as you know. Pure-blooded, a natural leader, wonderfully athletic…”

Pure-blooded. Superior.

“Athletic?” That, he has to question. Is his Dark World persona really an elitist, preppy jock?

Thankfully, his inquiry is brushed off as modesty rather than ignorance. “No need to be modest, Scorpius. I’ve seen you on the Quidditch pitch, there’s rarely a Snitch you don’t catch.”

Scorpius Malfoy, a _Seeker_? He hates Quidditch.

“You are a highly valued student. Valued by the faculty. Valued especially by me. I’ve positively glowed about you in dispatches to the Augurey.”

Right, there was that—the Augurey. He hasn’t quite figured out what exactly that is, but the bird seems to be a big symbol in this world.

“Our work together flushing out the more dilettante students has made this school a safer, purer place—”

“Has it?”

A scream from outside the room makes him turn towards the door, but Scorpius quickly reminds himself of Umbridge’s presence. _He must and he will control himself._

She doesn’t seem to register his defiance, because she continues talking. “But in the three days since I found you in that lake on Voldemort Day, you’ve become…odder and odder. In particular, this sudden obsession with Harry Potter…”

Okay, maybe his acting skills needed a little work.

“I don’t…”

“Questioning everyone you can about the Battle of Hogwarts. How Potter died. Why Potter died. And the ludicrous fascination with Cedric Diggory. Scorpius, we’ve checked you for hexes and curses—” she stands, looking him over like a prized possession, “—there were none we can see—so I’m asking if there’s anything I can do—to restore you to what you were…”

_He learns to be obedient._

“No. No. Consider me restored. Temporary aberration. That’s all.”

“So we can continue our work together?”

She makes it sound like they’re business partners. _Our work together_ , she had said,  _flushing out the more dilettante students has made this school a safer, purer place._ Making Hogwarts _pure_. Pure- _blooded_.

To put it simply, Scorpius hates it.

“We can.”

“For Voldemort and Valor.” Umbridge says, doing the ThingTM, touching her wrists together and twisting them around or whatever.

Scorpius tries miserably to copy her movements, stumbling over his words instead of echoing the phrase. “For—um—yes.”

He leaves, hoping he hadn’t just put his loyalty in jeopardy.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Hogwarts treats him like a king.

He’s got the nickname of _Scorpion King_ , actually, and even after three days it confuses him. He just tries his best to play along.

“Hey, Scorpion King.” Someone greets, like they’re friends. The stranger high-fives him. It’s painful, but he takes it, hand stinging from the force. Scorpius’s heart stings along with his hand, because for a moment he’s reminded of Albus, his _one and only_ best friend (and crush, but he ignores that part for now). He’s not friends with any of these people, these students who act as if he rules Hogwarts.

He plays along, smiling, like this stranger is _Albus_.

“We’re still on, right, tomorrow night?” Another student asks. Scorpius doesn’t know who he is. He doesn’t pay much attention to the other students at Hogwarts.

“Because we are ready to spill some proper Mudblood guts.” The one who high-fived him says. Scorpius is rightfully horrified by the sentence, but he agrees and it seems to satisfy the two, because they leave.

“Scorpius!”

He’s surprised to hear his name, and he turns to find someone he actually recognizes.

“Polly Chapman?” 

She’s standing on a staircase, looking down at him. “Shall we cut to it? I know everyone is waiting to know who you’re going to ask because, you know, you need to ask someone and I’ve been asked by three people already and I know I’m not alone in refusing them all. In case, you know, you were to ask me.”  
  
“Right,” Scorpius says, as if he’s got any idea what she’s talking about.

“Which would be great. If you were interested. Which, rumor is—you are. And I just want to make clear—at this moment—that I am also interested. And that isn’t a rumor. That’s a—f-a-c-t—fact.”

“That’s, um—great, but—what are we talking about?”

Polly laughs endearingly, like she finds his confusion to be cute. “The Blood Ball, of course. Who you—the Scorpion King—are taking to the Blood Ball.”  
  
Now it’s Scorpius’s turn to laugh. “You—Polly Chapman—want me to take you to a—ball?”

A scream echoes down the hall. This time, he feels the need to ask, because the screams have been haunting him for three days and he has an idea of what they might be but he has to, needs to hear it out loud because he doesn’t want to believe in his theory.

“What is that screaming?”

As expected, she looks at him like he’s suddenly grown three heads, but she gives an answer anyway. “Mudbloods, of course.” Scorpius’s blood turned cold and his stomach churned unpleasantly at the words, but he forces himself to listen. “In the dungeons. Your idea, wasn’t it?” Oh, okay, so now he’s elitist and preppy and a jock and a _torturer_. That’s a really nice thing to have on your conscience; to know that the world has to potential to be like _this_ and _he_ has the potential to be like this, too. “What’s going on with you? Oh Potter, I’ve got blood on my shoes again…” He feels like throwing up. He doesn’t want to know whose blood that is, doesn’t want to know how much blood has been spilled inside the walls of this castle. And it was _his_ doing.

Only now does Scorpius realize just how dark this world is, just how dark the world could be. This isn’t some dream—this is an alternate reality. The world he knows isn’t like this, but it damn well has the possibility, the potential to be like this, and all it took was the death of Harry Potter (and the not-death of Cedric Diggory, but getting into all of the details was complicated). It hasn’t kicked in until now, and now that he’s opening his eyes, he wants to screw them shut and hold them closed and never open them again, not until he’s safe, not until he gets Albus back.

Part of him is glad that Albus doesn’t exist. He doesn’t have to look Hell in the face and climb his way back out. Scorpius doesn’t know if he can survive this, alone.

But he has to. For Albus.

Albus’s disappearance seems to kick in now, too, because panic floods his body in the way that it always did when Albus was gone. He had felt the same thing, when that bookcase had eaten Albus. And Delphi, but _fuck Delphi_ , this wasn’t about her. No, this was about the love of his fucking life, and if he had to kill Delphi himself to have him, then so be it.

But more panic closes up his throat, and he regrets wanting to kill Delphi, because he knows he can’t do it. There’s already so many rumors about him. He can’t take another one, can’t take hearing that he was _just like his father_ because Draco had killed, and now he would kill, because Malfoys kill, and that’s just the way things were.

He can’t speak, so he doesn’t. He doesn’t know what he’d say if he could— _Sorry, gonna have to turn you down on that offer, I’m in love with my best friend from an alternate universe, who doesn’t even exist._

And Polly keeps talking, as if things were okay. “Like the Augurey insists—the future is ours to make—so here I am, making a future—with you.”

Now she’s making it sound like they’re getting _married_.

“For Voldemort and Valor.” She does the ThingTM. He can’t be bothered to copy it.

He manages to speak as she walks on. “For Voldemort it is.” His voice betrays how scared he was, but there’s nobody around to hear it. His shaking voice echoes through the stairwell, entirely alone.

 

 

* * *

 

 

As soon as Scorpius enters the room, he can feel the power radiating from his father. Draco Malfoy is impressive in a way that Scorpius has never seen before. It’s unnerving.

“You’re late.”

Well, that’s one way to greet your son.

“This is your office?”

“You’re late _and_ unapologetic. Maybe you are determined to compound the problem.”

Tough crowd.

“You’re Head of Magical Law Enforcement?”

“How dare you!” Draco explodes, and the suddenness of it startles Scorpius so much that he stumbles back, nearly out of the room. He’s never seen this side of his father before. “How dare you embarrass me and keep me waiting and then not apologize for it!”

“Sorry,” His voice is so small and weak compared to Draco’s. In this moment, Scorpius feels far from his son.

“ _Sir_.”

“Sorry, sir.”

It’s quiet. Draco makes a _come here_ motion.

Scorpius obeys, walking up to his father’s desk, not because he needs to play along, but because Scorpius is _scared_ of this version of Draco.

No, not version. He was still the same person, just…different.

“I did not bring you up to be sloppy, Scorpius. I did not bring you up to _humiliate_ me at Hogwarts."

“Humiliate you, sir?” He remembers saying something to Albus, back in the Ministry of Magic. _“…sometimes, I think I can see my dad thinking: How did I produce this?”_ He imagines that’s largely what Draco is thinking now.

“Harry Potter, asking questions about Harry Potter, of all the embarrassing things. How dare you disgrace the Malfoy name.”

Scorpius pales. “Oh no. Are you responsible? No. No. It can’t be.”

Draco _glares_ at his son. “Scorpius…”

“The _Daily Prophet_ today—three wizards blowing up bridges to see how many Muggles they can kill with one blast—is that you?” His voice gets bitterer, more venomous. “The ‘Mudblood’ death camps, the torture, the burning alive of those that oppose him. How much of that is you? Mum always told me you were a better man than I could see, but this is what you really are, isn’t it? You’re a murderer! You’re a torturing—"

Draco grabs Scorpius, violently pulling him onto the table, holding his head harshly to the wood. Scorpius yelps, cries out, a sob catching in his throat.

“Do not use her name in vain, Scorpius! Do not score points that way!” He’s not screaming, no, his tone is too _controlled_ for that, but it’s so _loud_ , it may as well be. It’s loud and violent and unlike the Draco Malfoy that Scorpius knows. 

Scorpius is scared to silence.

“She deserves better!” Draco yells, and shoves his head away. Scorpius stumbles, hunched over, then rights himself and turns to face his father.

Even _here_ , in this world, Draco doesn’t like hurting his son.

But his son doesn’t know that.

What his son does know is that this is an _alternate reality_. He has to keep reminding himself of that, because this world is so awful, and it’s what the world could have been. And while this isn’t the father he knows, it’s what the father he knows could have been. It’s all _what-if_ and _could have been_ and _potential_ and _possibility_ , until you’re living in those instances for yourself.

“And no, those idiots blasting Muggles, that’s not my doing, though it’ll be me the Augurey asks to bribe the Muggle Prime Minister with gold…” Something shifts in Draco’s expression. “Did your mother really say that of me?”

Astoria.

It takes a moment for Scorpius to find his voice. When he does, he sounds like he had in the stairwell, after his conversation with Polly Chapman: scared and alone. “She said that Grandfather didn’t like her very much—opposed the match—thought she was too Muggle-loving—too weak—but that you defied him for her. She said it was the bravest thing she’d ever seen.”

“She made being brave very easy, your mother.” His tone is heartfelt, so horrifyingly different from how violent he’d been just a minute ago. Scorpius hardly believes it’s the same person.

“But that was—another you.”

He looks at his dad, who looks back with a frown.

“I’ve done bad things, you’ve done worse. What have we become, Dad?”

He wants. He wants to hear that Draco loves him like he loves Astoria. He knows that _his_ Draco does, but in this reality he’s alone. Scorpius knows alone. Yes, he had his parents, and he loves his parents, but it isn’t quite the same as having friends your own age. And then he had Albus, and he didn’t feel so alone anymore.

But that was when the world wasn’t completely fucked.

When you learn to be not alone, you never want to let that go. Now that Harry was dead and Cedric was not dead, he was alone, without Albus, without the one person that made him not feel alone.

He doesn’t have Albus. Doesn’t have anyone. But he needs someone, and Draco is the only person he has left. So he wants, wants to hear remorse for whatever the hell had happened to this world. Wants to hear the Draco he knows.

This isn’t the Draco he knows. But it’s Draco.

“We haven’t _become_ anything—we simply are as we are.”

A different Draco.

Different, so that he was the sort of parent everyone would expect a Death Eater to be, the sort of parent he could have been. _His_ Draco wasn’t like that—he’d always shown Scorpius love. But not here. Scorpius was stupid to think he would ever get the kind of love he knew so well back home.

“The Malfoys.” He manages, bitter and angry and heartbroken. “The family you can always rely on to make the world a murkier place.”

The sentence seems to hit home with Draco, because something in his expression shifts, and he tries a different approach.

“This business at the school—what’s inspired it?”

_Oh, I don’t know, the fact that my school is full of people who thought it would be a good idea to have a holiday for Voldemort?_

Scorpius doesn’t say that, though, because he doesn’t want his head violently forced down onto the table again. He hates even thinking about it.

“I don’t want to be who I am.” _A torturer and a murderer and a Malfoy._

“And what’s brought that on?”

Scorpius pauses, desperately thinking about how the hell he was supposed to describe his story. He’d jumped through time _twice_ , lost his best friend to an evil alternate universe, broke into the Ministry of Magic where he almost got eaten by a bookcase, and that wasn’t even scratching the surface. In other words, it was a very, very long story.

“I’ve seen myself in a different way.” He manages. When his father is silent, Scorpius is afraid he’d said the wrong thing and instinctively backs away from the table. But then Draco speaks, and relief floods him like a tidal wave.

“You know what I loved most about your mother? She could always help me find light in the darkness.” His voice is so _loving_ that Scorpius is almost ashamed that he was scared Draco would get violent with him again. “She made the world—my world, anyway—less—what was the word you used—‘murky’ ”.

 _She could always help me find light in the darkness._  
  
It had hit them both hard, when Astoria had died. Dark World Draco seems to have been hit the hardest. In spite of himself, Scorpius feels a pang of sympathy. Even after his earlier violence, Scorpius felt bad for his father.

“Did she?”

“There’s more of her in there than I thought.” Scorpius can feel Draco’s eyes on him, studying him. There’s a beat of silence, and the look in Draco’s eyes shift, watching his son carefully, considering his next words. “Whatever you’re doing—do it safely. I can’t lose you too.”

It’s hard to believe he’s in an alternate universe.

“Yes. Sir.”

Draco looks at his son one last time, trying to understand what was happening in his head, before he crosses his fists in the motion that reminds Scorpius where he is.

“For Voldemort and Valor.”

Scorpius backs out of the room, copying his father’s movements. “For Voldemort and Valor.”

At least he’d finally learned how to do it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Scorpius finds himself in the Hogwarts library, muttering to himself as he scours the shelves. “How did Cedric become a Death Eater? What have I missed? Find me some—light in the darkness.” He pulls a book from the shelf, staring at the cover like it held the answers to the universe. “Tell me your secrets. What have I missed?”

“Why are you here?” The voice startles Scorpius so much that he nearly drops his book. He turns to find a rather desperate-looking Craig Bowker Jr., his clothes tattered and worn.

“Why can’t I be here?”

“It’s not ready yet. I’m working as fast as I can. But Professor Snape sets so much of it, and writing the essay in two different ways. I mean, I’m not complaining…sorry.” The poor guy hardly takes a breath between his sentences, terrified rambling hijacking his mouth. Scorpius knew the feeling, but he couldn’t understand a word he had said.

“Start again. From the beginning. What’s not ready?”

“Your Potions homework. And I’m happy to do it—grateful even—and I know you hate homework and books and I never let you down, you know that.”

Scorpius has to resist the urge to laugh. “I hate homework?” The Scorpius Malfoy, certified enormous geek by Albus Severus Potter (but that memory hurts to think about, now, so he shoves it down), _hates homework_?

And, of course, Craig is confused, because Scorpius isn’t acting how he normally would. “You’re the Scorpion King. Of course you hate homework.” He notices the book in Scorpius’ arms, but misinterprets why he needs it, assuming it’s for another homework assignment. “What are you doing with _A History of Magic_? I could do that assignment, too?”

Why did he have to end up here _alone_?

There’s not much Scorpius can really do. He can’t explain what he’s doing with the book: _oh, you know, just trying to figure out what the hell happened in this alternate universe._ He really wanted to spare Craig of all that work, but he was already suspicious enough as it is. So, at a loss, he hands over _A History of Magic_ and walks out of the library, running through the interaction in his head before stopping in his tracks.

“Did he say Snape?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Did no one teach you to knock, boy?”

Scorpius barely registers the reprimand as he looks up at the Potions teacher, slightly breathless, slightly unsure, slightly exultant.

“Severus Snape. This is an honor.”

Snape was something of a childhood hero to Scorpius. Many of those that had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts were. He was to a lot of the new generation of Hogwarts students. Scorpius had heard a lot of differing opinions on the guy, but he’d been raised with the knowledge that Severus Snape was a good man.

“Professor Snape will do fine. You may behave like a king at this school, Malfoy, but that doesn’t make us all your subjects.”

Right. Scorpius was a huge dick in this world.

“But you’re the answer…” Scorpius wasn’t sure how he knew, but in the library something had just _clicked_. Snape was the answer. Snape would help him get out of this utter hell. Snape would help him get back home, get back to Albus.

But of course, the words mean nothing. He’s telling the truth, but it sounds like nonsense to everyone else. But this was it, this was the key, so he _had_ to convince Snape. He had to get back home and fix all of this. He can’t stand being in this world.

They go back and forth. Scorpius is told that he’s lost his mind, that he’s playing some “Malfoy game”, but he persists. Getting insulted just because of the family name just reminds him of his conversation with his father…how long ago was that? The days were starting to melt together. 

“Harry Potter is dead.”

It was the same realization Scorpius had come to when he first appeared alone in the lake. This was the first time he would actually get to explain his side of the story.

“Not in my world. He said you were the bravest man he’d ever met. He knew, you see—he knew your secret—what you did for Dumbledore. And he admired you for it—greatly. And that’s why he named his son—my best friend—after you both. Albus Severus Potter.” He was also, you know, Scorpius’s  _crush_ , but he figured leaving out a few things wouldn’t hurt. 

Snape is silent, apparently deeply moved by Scorpius’s speech. He can be a good actor when he wants to.

“Please—for Lily, for the world, help me.” He understood Snape’s plight of loving someone you couldn’t be with, loving someone who didn’t love you back. Hopefully his love would sway him in the right direction—Scorpius doesn’t know what he’d do if this world had fucked up Snape’s backstory, too. He thinks it did for a moment, when Snape raises his wand. Scorpius steps back, scared, his memory again returning to the heart-to-heart he’d had with his father. Nothing in this world had scared him more than that.

Instead, however, Snape aims at the door. And he’s safe.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Scorpius is safe for all of five seconds. 

As soon as he enters Snape’s secret room, he’s pinned to a table by a familiar face, though it’s not as friendly as he remembered from his world. Even with her wand pointed at his neck, he’s glad to see someone he knows. Someone he knew.

“He’s on our side!” He hears Snape insist. At least he has someone to vouch for him, now.

And, if Snape’s word wasn’t enough: “I am, Hermione.”

She turns her gaze back to Scorpius, distrust clear in her expression. “Most people know me as Granger. And I don’t believe a word you say, Malfoy—”

“It’s all my fault. My fault. And Albus’s.” He doesn’t notice it in the moment, but Scorpius was so quick to blame himself—yes, they were both at fault, but his initial reaction is to take the blame for this mess entirely alone. He isn’t sure if it’s because he subconsciously believes this all _is_ his fault, somehow, or not.

“Albus? Albus Dumbledore? What’s Albus Dumbledore got to do with this?”

This is why you don’t name your child after two of the most well-known wizards in the Wizarding World.

“He doesn’t mean Dumbledore.” Snape draws the attention from Scorpius to himself, and Scorpius silently thanks him, glad to have the heat off of him for a moment. He was tired of being threatened and questioned by everyone he spoke to. “You may need to sit down.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Tell Albus—Tell Albus Severus—I’m proud he carries my name. Now go. Go.”

Severus Snape’s last words. 

Scorpius follows Snape’s Patronus— _a light in the darkness_ —to the lake. He probably wouldn’t have made it out without the Patronus to guide him, protect him. Hermione and Ron—he was a part of the secret rebel alliance, too—had already sacrificed themselves for him, and judging by the doe’s flickering form, Snape would be next on that list.

At least Hermione and Ron loved each other in this universe, and Snape would die a hero, saving Scorpius’s life. He supposes that he has done some good here, even if it had ended in death.

But now he needed to go back home.

Scorpius hadn’t even hesitated—he ran after the silvery doe as fast as he could. Around him, the world seemed to get darker. A bloodcurdling scream pierces his ears—Scorpius doesn’t know who’s it is. He doesn’t think he’s ever been happier to see that stupid lake. He jumps, hears the splash of his body hitting the water, and then the world is submerged. The cold shocks him to the bone, but he has other shit to worry about right now than being cold. Even underwater, the screams seem to multiply above him. Then, there is a bang and a flash and silence.

And silence.

And silence.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The first thing Scorpius notices after breaking the surface of the water is how blue the sky is. 

And then—

“ALBUS!”

He hardly hears Albus’s words over his panicked breaths. Albus. Oh, he had missed Albus.

“It’s _you_.”

He wants to kiss Albus so fucking badly. Words can’t describe how elated Scorpius was to finally be home, finally be with him.

“You have no idea how good it is to see you again.”

Albus is, of course, confused, but in the moment,  Scorpius doesn’t care about how weird he’s acting. “You just saw me two minutes ago?” Scorpius had calmed down enough to finally hear what Albus is saying, the overwhelming joy of seeing his best friend again overriding his panic.

He wants to kiss Albus.

But he doesn’t.

“A _lot_ has happened since then.” He murmurs quietly, wading close and wrapping his arms around Albus. He’s real. He’s real. He’s real. This is real.

They’re _so close_.

There’s a hint of a laugh in Albus’s voice as he breaks away. “Careful, you’re drowning me.” With their proximity, Albus notices a change in Scorpius’s attire. He hadn’t been wearing that before, had he? “What are you wearing?”

“What am I wearing?”  Scorpius echoes. He looks down, and the panic starts up again.

He shoves it down.

He’s wearing the Dark World robes—which, he had to admit, did look pretty badass, but now they were tied to bad, bad memories. He struggles to pull off his cloak while still in the water, wanting to get rid of any sign of that universe forever. He never wanted to hear the word _Voldemort_ again.

 _For Voldemort and Valor._  

He changes the subject.

“What are _you_ wearing?” He brightens as he notices the color Albus is wearing. “Yes! You’re in Slytherin!” _Yes! You even exist at all!_

“Did it work? Did we do anything?”

Scorpius smiles from ear to ear. “No. And it’s _brilliant_.”

Albus stares, disbelieving. “What? We failed.”

“Yes! YES, AND IT’S AMAZING!” Scorpius splashed the water, sending a wave towards Albus. Clearly not sharing his excitement, Albus pulls himself to the bank.

“Scorpius, have you been eating too many sweets again?” 

It’s heartwarming, really, how worried Albus is. It just makes Scorpius happier to see him.

“There you go, you see—all dry humor and Albus-y. I love it.” _I love you_.

 _Oh, he had missed Albus_.

Missed was a fucking understatement.

And then—footsteps.

And voices.

“Albus. Albus! Are you okay?”

Harry Potter.

Scorpius is over-fucking-joyed.

“HARRY! IT’S HARRY POTTER! AND GINNY! AND PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL! AND—Dad.”

The last time he’d seen Draco Malfoy, he had forced Scorpius’s head down onto a table and yelled at him.

“My dad. Hi. Dad.”

“Hello, Scorpius.”

But it’s _him_ —it’s the Draco Malfoy that Scorpius knew. The Draco Malfoy that loved him. It’s so obvious, in the way he held himself and the tone of his voice and the way he did his hair and how if he looked hard enough, Scorpius could see worry on his father’s face. But all he can remember is fear.

Scorpius climbs out of the lake.

 


	2. (i'm burning light for you)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Survival is easy.
> 
> The hard part is dealing with the effects.

 

_“Your intentions to save Cedric were honorable, if misguided. And it does sound as if you were brave, Scorpius, and you, Albus, but the lesson even your father sometimes failed to heed is that bravery doesn’t forgive stupidity. Always think. Think what’s possible. A world controlled by Voldemort is—"_

_“A horrific world.”_

Scorpius had been awake for a long time. He doesn’t remember when he’d woken up. Albus had been fast asleep, and he still was.

He remembered his dream vividly. He didn’t want to.

Ever since then, Scorpius had been sitting up in bed, his thoughts cruelly stuck on the Dark World. He just wanted to forget all about it, to brush it off as some bad dream (it resurfaced in dreams. He was scared to even _sleep_.), but it wasn’t that easy. What he had experienced was _real_ , even if it felt like a dream. Now that he was _home_ , he had a hard time believing that place even existed, in some parallel timeline. He had gotten people _killed_ , and for what? So he could sit here and be scared over something that wasn’t even real?

No. It was _real_. Even back in the Dark World, it was hard to discern what was real and what was not, the people he knew and the people who had changed. And now he was left with that same feeling—it’s hard to believe he was home. He looked at people he had known his whole life, and after one little event in an alternate universe, he could never look at them the same way.

He wishes Albus were awake, so maybe they could work through this together. He’d told some people about the Dark World—McGonagall, Harry, Ginny, Albus, Draco—told them about how Draco had been Head of Magical Law Enforcement, how he did anything they wanted him to, but not how _violent_ he’d been with his son.

When he looks at his father, now, all he can see is himself being pulled onto the table, Draco looming over him menacingly, scolding him for using Astoria’s name in vain. All he can see is _violence._  

He could never tell that to Draco. He doesn’t even think he could tell that to _Albus_.

Draco Malfoy had never shown his son anything but love.

Then why was his son so scared of him?

_Think what’s possible._

He was still shocked, to think that could have been real. But it _was_ real, he reminds himself for the thousandth time—it just wasn’t _his_ real.

Scorpius is sure he’s going insane.

He doesn’t know why he’s so bothered by his experience in the Dark World. He doesn’t know why he can’t just move on. He doesn’t know why he has to live with the _after_. He doesn’t need trauma, not with all the other shit he’s going through.

Trauma.

Scorpius Malfoy is traumatized.

He tries to cope—when he finally wakes Albus up, he dubs himself _Scorpius the Dreadless_ and _Malfoy the Unanxious_ , as if telling himself that would make it true. He tells Albus how, normally, being in constant detention would break him, but after all he’d been through? This was nothing.

But it was something.

He says he’s fearless, when fear is all he feels.

He shouldn’t be like this—it _should_ be nothing. But it’s not. Why is he so fucked up over this? He has other problems. Worse problems. The Dark World _shouldn’t be_ a problem. But it was all he could think about. 

He just wants this all to be over. Everything—the Time-Turner, the Dark World, all of it. He wants to destroy this stupid Time-Turner and not be traumatized and be with Albus.

One problem at a time.

“You don’t know how good it is to be back here, Albus. I hated it there.”

“Apart from the Polly Chapman fancying you bits.”

Albus doesn’t even know. He hadn’t even liked that part. _I’m in love with you, idiot_.

“Cedric was a different person entirely—dark, dangerous. My dad—doing anything they wanted him to. And me? I discovered another Scorpius, you know? Entitled, angry, mean—people were frightened of me.” _I was frightened of myself_. “It feels like we were all tested and we all—failed.”

Albus, kind as ever, attempts to lift his spirits. “But you changed things. You had a chance and you changed time back. Changed yourself back.”

“Only because I knew what I should be.” Scorpius says, but he knows that’s not true. He wasn’t changed back—just _changed_.

It’s all too confusing to deal with right now. Scorpius wants to go back to bed.

But they have a Time-Turner to destroy.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Of course, Albus just _has_ to drag Delphi along.

It’s not that he’s annoyed by her, or jealous of her. He’s not jealous. Why would he be jealous? It’s not like he’s in love with Albus or anything—okay, he was getting off topic. He would just rather Delphi didn’t know about his experience in the Dark World.

At least he’s not the one to tell her about it. That, he can thank Albus for. 

“The things Scorpius saw in the second task…I’m so sorry. We can’t risk going back again. We can’t save your cousin.”

That’s the whole reason why they did this in the first place. To save Cedric. Scorpius went to hell and back just for them to _fail_.

Delphi looks at the Time-Turner in Albus’s hand, and then at them both. Her gaze stops on Albus. “Your owl said so little…”

“Imagine the worst possible world,” Albus continues, “and then double it. People being tortured, dementors everywhere, a despotic Voldemort, my dad dead, me never born, the world surrounded by Dark Magic—we just, we can’t allow that to happen.”

Delphi hesitates, and then her face breaks, but instead of commenting on the tragedy of what Albus had just described to her, she asks a question. “Voldemort ruled? He was alive?”

Scorpius speaks up.

“He ruled everything. It was terrible.”

“Because of what we did?”

“Humiliating Cedric turned him into a very angry young man, and then he became a Death Eater and—and—it all went wrong. Really wrong.”

Delphi looks at Scorpius’s face carefully, then her own face sinks.

“A Death Eater?” She asks, fishing for details.

“And a murderer.” A murderer, just like _himself_. “He killed Professor Longbottom.”

Scorpius is almost surprised by what she says next. “Then—of course—we need to destroy it.”

Albus seems surprised, too. “You understand?”

“I’ll go further than that—I’ll say Cedric would have understood.” Well. At least she was confident. “We’ll destroy it together, and then we’ll go to my uncle. Explain the situation.”

“Thank you,” Albus smiles. Delphi returns it, though her expression is sad. Scorpius can’t quite tell why—if she was sad about being unable to save Cedric, it was certainly a shift from how _confident_ she’d been just moments earlier. She takes the Time-Turner from Albus, and her expression again shifts into something unidentifiable. Her cloak has loosened, falling off her shoulder, and Albus makes heart-eyes at the ink now visible on the back of her neck. 

_He’s not jealous, he’s not jealous, he’s not jealous…_

Delphi is in the middle of explaining her tattoo when something clicks.

He should have noticed earlier.

It’s an _Augurey_.

_“You are a highly valued student. Valued by the faculty. Valued especially by me. I’ve positively glowed about you in dispatches to the Augurey.”_

_“Like the Augurey insists—the future is ours to make—so here I am, making a future—with you.”_

_“And no, those idiots blasting Muggles, that’s not my doing, though it’ll be me the Augurey asks to bribe the Muggle Prime Minister with gold…”_

“It reminds me that the future is mine to make.” Delphi explains, and Albus calls it cool, says he might get an Augurey tattoo, too, and—

“Give it back. Give us back the Time-Turner.”

The Augurey in the Dark World—it’s _her_.

“What?” Delphi feigns confusion—if she’s anything, she’s a good actor. Either that or he and Albus were just gullible as hell. He wants to believe it’s the former.

“Scorpius? What are you doing?” Albus asks, and that just makes his heart break—but he _can’t_ let her win.

“They called you the Augurey. In—In the other world—they called you the Augurey.”

To Scorpius’s horror, a slow smile grows across Delphi’s face. “The Augurey? I rather like that.”

“Delphi?” Albus asks, wanting to believe she wasn’t… well, _evil_. Scorpius feels bad—he knew how much he loved her.

He tries to do something, _anything_ , but she’s too quick.

“ _Fulgari_!”

His hands are pulled together, tightly bound. He yells for Albus to run, but he doesn’t get very far before his hands are tied, too.

“And that is the first spell I’ve had to use on you.” Scorpius hears the smile in her voice, now that she knows she has the upper hand, now that she has them under her control. “I thought I’d have to use plenty more. But you’re far easier to control than Amos—children, particularly male children, are so naturally pliant, aren’t they?” She walks up to Albus, crouching down to his height. “Now, let’s sort this mess out once and for all…”

“But…why?” Shit. Albus sounds so _terrified_. Scorpius wished he’d done something sooner, so maybe Albus would’ve be able to save himself. He feels so hopeless, knowing he can’t do anything to at least spare Albus from this. “But…what? But… _who are you_?”

Scorpius turns his head to see Delphi, her smile downright _evil_ , her hand gently lifting Albus’s head so he’s forced to meet her eyes. “ _Albus_ ,” She says, almost lovingly.  “I am the new past.” She rises, Albus’s wand in hand. She holds it, a hand on either end, and snaps it in half. She strides over to Scorpius, takes his wand, too. “I am the new future.” _Snap_. “I am the answer this world has been looking for.”

Evil villain monologues suit her, at least.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The worst part of it all is that Delphi _enjoys_ her newfound power over them.

She’s brought them to the Quidditch pitch—the location of the third task. 

“Yes, it is time to spare the spare once and for all.” Delphi grins, reveling in her new persona. She’s adopted a black feathered coat, black _Augurey_ feathers, and Scorpius hopes it’s just faux. If it wasn’t, then her obsession with the bird was going a little far. “We will go back for Cedric, and in doing so we will resurrect the world you saw, Scorpius…” 

“Hell,” Scorpius spits back, “You want to resurrect hell?”

“I want a return to pure and strong magic. I want to rebirth the Dark.”

Pure.

“You want Voldemort’s return?”

“The one true ruler of the wizarding world.” She says, in true evil villain fashion. “He will return. Now, you’ve ensured the first two tasks are a little _clogged up_ with magic—there are at least two visits from the future in both of them and I will _not_ risk being revealed or distracted. The third task is clean, so let’s start there, shall we?”

“We won’t stop him—whatever you force us to do—we know he needs to win the tournament with my dad.” Albus says, ever brave. He does have Gryffindor in his blood, after all, despite his green robes.

“I don’t just want you to stop him. I want you to _humiliate_ him. Humiliation got you there before and it’ll get us there again. And the prophecy will be fulfilled.”

Of course there’s a fucking _prophecy_.

“Wasn’t aware there was a prophecy,” Scorpius is the one to reply, this time. “What prophecy?”

She turns to him, with what only can be described as darkness in her eyes. “You have seen the world as it should be, Scorpius, and today we’re going to ensure its return.”

You have seen the world as it _should_ be.

He can’t. He can’t let her do this. He can’t go back there.

That comment alone is enough to shut him up, purely out of fear. Delphi has this way of speaking, of _manipulation_ , that makes you think she knows everything about you. It’s like she knows how terrified he is of the Dark World, knows…more than what he’s told her.

But that’s not possible. Then again, they don’t know the extent of Delphi’s powers. So, really, who knows what she could do?

“We won’t. We won’t obey you.” Before, Scorpius wished that he could have spared Albus from Delphi. Now, he doesn’t know if he could survive her without him. His never-wavering bravery makes him all the more confident that they can win. He has no idea how’ll they’ll do that, but the feeling is good when the situation just feels hopeless. “Whoever you are. Whatever you want us to do.”

Delphi turns on Albus, then, the smile she wears now infinitely different from the almost loving one she’d worn before. “Of course you will.”

Albus glares right back. “You’ll have to use _Imperio_. You’ll have to control me.”

Her smile sours, and she mirrors Albus’s expression. “No. To fulfill the prophecy, this has to be you, not a puppet of you. You have to be the one to humiliate Cedric, so _Imperio_ just won’t do.” Her smile returns as quickly as it went. “I’ll have to force you by other means.”

She takes out her wand, pointing it right at Albus, who doesn’t even flinch. “Do your worst,” he challenges, staring her down.

Delphi looks at him, and then her expression shifts, knowing, and turns her wand on Scorpius. “I will.” She challenges him right back, and Albus cracks.

“No!” He cries, full of horror.

Delphi smirks, amused by his fear. “Yes, just as I thought—this seems to frighten you more.”

Scorpius finds it in himself to speak. “Albus, whatever she does to me—we can’t let her—”

Delphi cuts him off, her gaze never leaving Albus as she casts. “ _Crucio_!”

Scorpius yells out in pain. He’s heard descriptions of what it feels like to be the victim of _Crucio_. In that moment, he knows they’re all wrong. The pain—it’s utterly indescribable. It feels like he’s dying. It feels worse than dying. It feels incomparable to even that.

Out of the fear, there’s a spark of brave. “I will…” Albus starts, and Delphi interrupts once more. She’s _laughing_.

“What? What on earth do you think you can do? A wizardwide disappointment? A sore on your family name? A _spare_? You want to stop me hurting your only friend? Then do what you’re told.”

She looks at Albus. His eyes stay resistant. Scorpius is just starting to recover from Delphi’s spell, when—

“No? _Crucio_!”

Albus’s spark is snuffed out, and he sobs out, “Stop. Please.”

Scorpius finds it hard to focus on their conversation over the _pain_. He vaguely registers someone else run in, some yelling, and then—

“ _Avada Kedavra_!”

The spell’s green light is unmistakable. The body is propelled backwards, then drops, dead. 

Well. Fuck.

Scorpius’s pain subsides, and everything is silent for a long moment.

“Did you not understand? These are not childish games we are playing here. You are useful to me; your friends are not.” Delphi sneers. Albus and Scorpius look at the body, which Scorpius then recognizes as Craig Bowker Jr. They were never friends—Albus is his only friend. But she still killed him without even _looking_. Scorpius remembers the Craig Bowker Jr. from the Dark World, the one that did his homework for him, the one that seemed terrified when face-to-face with Scorpius, and the sympathy for his death grows.

Delphi continues. “It took me a long time. To discover your weakness, Albus Potter. I thought it was pride, I thought it was the need to impress your father, but then I realized your weakness was the same as your father’s: friendship.” She regards Albus with a knowing look. “No, I’ll go even further than that. The weakness, the weakness you share with your father, is love.” She crouches down to his height. “Yes, your father had a penchant to love those he crossed paths with. Platonic, familial…romantic.” She pauses a moment, letting the statement sink in. Albus just looked confused (he really was his father’s child)—Scorpius was the one that was really affected by the words, and Delphi knew that damn well. “You know, Albus, you really are a sweet boy. I hate to hurt you. But I must. And Scorpius…” She smiles as she looks over at him, knowing the weight of her words. “You really are lucky to have him.”

“Scorpius, what the hell is she talking about?”

It takes Scorpius a moment to find his voice. “I—I don’t know,” he says quickly, feigning confusion.

Delphi eyes Scorpius carefully, then drops it. “But enough about that. _You_ will do exactly as you’re told,” she turns on Albus, “otherwise Scorpius will die, just like that _spare_ did.” 

They’re both silence, if only out of fear. The last time Scorpius was scared to silence—

 “Voldemort will return, and the Augurey will sit at his side. Just as it was prophesized: _When spares are spared, when time is turned, when unseen children murder their fathers: Then will the Dark Lord return._ ” She recites, then frowns. “Bit of a shit prophecy. Really— _when unseen children murder their fathers_? But…you can’t quite argue with fate.” 

Her obsession with prophecies and the like was quite fitting for her name—Delphini, Delphi, like the oracle. Even the name of the inked bird on her back had ties to prophesizing—augury, the act of interpreting omens from birds. It was almost alarming, how coincidental her interests were to her name.

“Cedric is the spare, and Albus—the unseen child who will kill his father by rewriting time and so return the Dark Lord.” Delphi looks proud for a moment, powerful, but then it wavers and her face falls. “The prophecy really messed the whole bit up. Just sounds stupid, now.” Muffled laughter escapes the boys at her feet, and she makes a frustrated noise. “Shut up!” She yells, and with the power and the threat back in her voice, the two quickly fall silent. She pulls out the Time-Turner, forcing their hands to it, and it begins to rotate.

And there is a great _whoosh_ of light, a smash of noise.

And time stops. And then it turns over, thinks a bit, and begins spooling backwards, slow at first…

And then it speeds up. 

And then there’s a sucking noise. And a BANG.

And silence.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

A fate worse than death. 

That’s what the Dark World was. Is.

Going back—it isn’t an option. 

Scorpius’s thoughts are interrupted as a hedge shifts, and nearly dissects him and Albus. There’s a quick moment of panic, a split-second _what-if_ scenario, and they’re going to get separated and—Albus pulls Scorpius towards him, and the hedge stops behind them, and he’s safe. 

Safe, and with Albus, but with _Delphi_ , so are they _really_ safe?

The pair move through the maze, compelled by Delphi, but she’s far ahead, giving them a moment to talk.

“Albus, we need to do something.” Scorpius’s voice is all panic, all memory, all trauma. He can’t go back; he _can’t_ let her win.

“I know,” Albus says, calm and collected in contrast, if only in tone of voice. “She snapped our wands, we’re bound,” He tugs his hands away from each other to emphasize his point. They don’t make it very far with their restraints. “and she’s threatening to kill you.” Albus’s composed exterior cracks for a fleeting moment at that. He’s more scared than he lets on.

He can’t let her win. No matter what.

“I’m ready to die if it’ll stop Voldemort from returning.”

Albus is, of course, horrified. “Are you?”

“You won’t have to mourn me for long,” He says, morbid. “She’ll kill me and quickly kill you, too.”

“The flaw in the Time-Turner, the five-minute rule.” Albus says, desperate, obviously trying to come up with a plan that didn’t end in their deaths. “We do all we can to run down the clock.”

“It won’t work.” Delphi is smart, she knows the limitations of this Time-Turner. She won’t even let them try.

And yet, she does. Kind of.

Scorpius is the one to distract her, first. He’s bluffing, of course. He doesn’t care if what he’s saying is nonsense—as long as it stalls her. She doesn’t let it go on for long, though, as predicted (which was ironic, considering their conversation). Delphi grows impatient, and casts _Crucio_ on him. He doesn’t mind, though—he’d rather take _Crucio_ a thousand times over than return to the Dark World.

“You wanted a test, Albus. This is it, and we’re going to pass it.” It takes all of Scorpius’s energy to even speak, but it’s enough. Back at Hogwarts, the night after Scorpius had returned, Albus had asked if he’d been tested. Scorpius had told him that he hadn’t, yet. This—This was his test.

“Then you will die.” Delphi tells him, and Albus looks up at her flying form, full of strength, full of bravery.

"Yes. We will. And we’ll do so gladly knowing it’s stopped you.”

Delphi rises, full of fury, and levels her wand. “We don’t have time for this. _Cru_ —”

“ _Expelliarmus_!”

Her wand is knocked from her hand, and Albus breathes a sigh of relief. He doesn’t want to know what would have happened had they not been saved by—

“ _Brachiabindo_!” Delphi is bound, and, furious, she fights her restraints to no avail.

Scorpius and Albus turn to see who had saved them, and if they needed any reminder of what time they were in, this was it.

“ _HOLY SHIT_ , YOU’RE CEDRIC DIGGORY!” Scorpius yells with geekish enthusiasm.

Cedric looks alarmed, if a bit flattered. “Yes. I am.”

Cedric Diggory—the one person whose fate altered the events of time. Scorpius’s enthusiasm suddenly fades.

Cedric frees them, and he returns to the maze, to his death, with the reminder that his dad loves him very much. It’s the least they could do, without…fucking up time.

But Delphi recovers.

She nearly leaves them behind, though by now it’s not really a surprise. She has a moment with this big monologue and she crushes the Time-Turner with her bare hands. Scorpius collapses, falls to his knees, stares at the shards around him, and it takes Albus coming over and putting a hand on his shoulder to get him to stand.

Delphi flies off, leaving them stuck in a time they don’t belong in. They don’t even know what time this _is_.

Well. Fuck. This is bad.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Bluffing was a mistake. 

It’s his fault. It’s all his fault. They’re stuck in October 30th, 1981, and it’s all Scorpius Malfoy’s fault.

His bluff—he told Delphi that prophecies can be broken, told her that the whole logic of prophecies is questionable. Quite frankly, he doesn’t know why she even listened to him. She was the one who knew all about prophecies and stuff. But she was out of options—they had ruined her chance at the Third Task. Which, _woo! Go them!_ , but now they were even more fucked than they were before.

But he can’t panic now, can’t blame himself. They’ve got a baby Harry Potter to save.

Man, time travel is weird.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The Potter family reunion is quite nice. The Malfoy family reunion is...a pleasant surprise.

The rest of them—Albus and Harry ( _adult_ Harry, _their_ Harry) and Ginny and Hermione and Ron—are all happy and blissful around them, and then there’s Draco and Scorpius. And it’s awkward.

“We can hug too if you like…” Draco offers, and Scorpius hesitates for only a moment. And then he lets himself be happy. He throws himself into his dad’s arms with all the joy in the world. Their arms wrap around each other, and Draco rests his hand on Scorpius’s head, holding him close, and it’s nice and then it’s not and then he stops. The last time he’d felt that hand against his head…the memory only makes him cling to his father, his _real_ father, harder, and he doesn’t want to let go. Even after they part, Scorpius still holds on to Draco. He sees Draco smile, and Scorpius lets himself smile, too.

 

 

* * *

 

  

Scorpius doesn’t know when exactly it clicked.

Delphini Diggory isn’t a Diggory at all, but a Riddle. Or a Lestrange. Delphini Riddle-Lestrange. Delphini Lestrange-Riddle. He’s trying to decide which variation of her surname he likes better when he realizes something.

Children of the Literal Worst Dark Wizard of All Time™ didn’t turn out so well. 

He wasn’t technically Voldemort’s son, but everyone else seemed to think otherwise, and that was good enough.  
  
He and Delphi—they’re not that different. If Dark World Scorpius™ was, in actuality, _him_ , then…

Screams of half-bloods ring in his mind, paired with the image of Delphi murdering Craig.

No—it should have been obvious before, how pure _evil_ Delphi was. That, and he fascination with the guy. _He_ was her reason for doing all this. She just wanted some recognition from her father.

He wasn’t like that, wasn’t evil.

Scorpius _Malfoy_.

He’s not evil. He could never—

But his alternate self said otherwise.

 _No. They’re not true._ It’s Albus’s voice. Albus, from the first changed timeline. Albus, the Gryffindor. _And I’ll tell you why: because I don’t think Voldemort is capable of having a kind son—and you’re kind, Scorpius. I truly believe Voldemort—Voldemort couldn’t have a child like you._

And, in response, a voice that Scorpius knows is his own, but hardly sounds like himself, now: _That’s nice—that’s a nice thing to say._

At this point, he isn’t sure who to believe.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

They spare her. 

“But she’s a murderer—I’ve seen her murder—” Albus’s voice, again. Albus, the Slytherin.

“Yes, Albus, she’s a murderer,” It’s Harry, undeniably. It’s not even the voice that gives it away—it’s such a _heroic_ thing to say, it _has_ to be Harry. “and we’re not.”

“ _Mudbloods, of course.”_ Another voice—in his head—Polly, from hell. _“_ _In the dungeons. Your idea, wasn’t it?”_

No, _they_ weren’t murderers. 

But Scorpius was.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Scorpius has seen too much death today. 

He manages to watch James, but Lily…he can’t look. He clings to his father, nearly shaking, digging his face into Draco’s chest. He needs the comfort—they all do.

He can’t even imagine what it’s like for the others, for Harry.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Scorpius is wildly relieved that Rose Granger-Weasley turned him down. 

He never actually liked her, not romantically. No, Albus has always been the object of his affection, but of course, he can’t let anyone know that. He kind of saw Rose and his brain went: _Girl! Boy like girl!_ So he pretended.

Even if he did like Rose, why the hell would he choose her over _him_? He went through hell and back, and he wasn’t there for him, she never was. Albus was.

Either way, the fact that she calls him _Scorpion King_ as she leaves scares him more than his crush on his best friend ever could. He doesn’t know why she knows that, and he doesn’t want to.

She had no idea what he went through. Albus did.

But enough of that heteronormative nonsense—right now, he’s hugging Albus, and everything is finally okay.

 

 

* * *

 

  

Scorpius was very much not okay.

He figures getting closure would be good, for both of them—him and Draco. He deserves to know, Scorpius thinks.

But he can’t bring himself to knock. Now, faced with the opportunity…he couldn’t.

It would be easier, to just turn away. But he knows that if he doesn’t do this now, he’ll never get the courage to do it again.

So, he knocks.

He’s almost surprised, when the door doesn’t reveal Draco Malfoy, the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. Now, seeing _his_ Draco, he can’t help but feel an insurmountable guilt, for everything bad he’s said, everything bad he’s thought. He knows, deep down, that Draco loves him, always has. He knows that they’re not evil, despite family history. He knows that Draco is trying to fix how people see the Malfoy name, and Scorpius hates that he’s been thinking of himself just like everyone else has.

The Dark World had messed with his point of view in more ways than one.

“Scorpius? What’s—”

“I think you know why I’m here. I’m kind of obvious about it, aren’t I?”

Draco’s face falls, and he takes a step forward, concerned. “Scorpius…” he starts, but his son speaks up again, and he lets him speak.

“I think you noticed, when we hugged in Godric’s Hollow. Didn’t say anything. How could you, when everything else was happening?” He smiles, kind of half-laughs, tries to make a joke out of it. It doesn’t quite deliver like he was expecting. It’s just kind of…depressing, now. “I think you know that I haven’t exactly been telling the whole truth. About the Dark World. About you.” Scorpius meets Draco’s eyes for the first time since he walked in, and he doesn’t look mad in the slightest. He’s patient, listening, and looks more concerned than anything. Scorpius is forever grateful that this is his father.

“So, you were Head of Magical Law Enforcement—” Draco looks a little smugly proud at that, but he listens. “and I was visiting you because you were kind of the only person that I was close with and actually alive. So, I walk in and I’m all like, _whoa, this is your office?_ And you’re all like, _you’re late and unapologetic and you’re embarrassing me at school_ , because I’ve been acting all weird because I’m supposed to be all evil and stuff but I’m not acting all evil and stuff because I’m not from that time and I don’t really know what’s going on yet. And I’m sort of responsible for lots of half-blood torture and death and stuff at school—well, not me, but _me_ —and I was looking into it and there’s been other attacks against them, so I…I blame it on you, and…" 

He remembers every detail, every word.

“So I say, _Mum always told me you were a better man than I could see, but this is what you really are, isn’t it? You’re a murderer! You’re a torturing—_ ” And he flinches, like he’s back there again. Scorpius opens his mouth to speak again, but a sob comes out instead. He puts a hand to his mouth to silence himself, and tries again, forcing himself to finish the story. “And you…” He shoves his hand down, mimicking the action. “You shove my head onto the table, and you yell at me, for talking about her that way, and…” He can’t say anything more. Hot tears spill over his cheeks, and he chokes out another sob.

“Scorpius…” Draco repeats, taking another step forward. He goes to hug his son, but he stops, remembers how he’d reacted in Godric’s Hollow. The split second of hesitation, of stillness—it spoke louder than his explanation ever could. “Can I…?”

Scorpius nods feverishly, and he’s the one to close the gap. Draco holds his crying son close, hands straying from the boy’s head.

“You know I would never—” Draco feels Scorpius nod again, and he smiles gently, looking down and kissing his son’s head. He waits until Scorpius’s hysterics has calmed, then says, “I love you, Scorpius.” 

Scorpius smiles back. “I love you too, dad.”

“Thank you, for being honest with me. But, please, don’t keep things like that to yourself again. Don’t torture yourself like that.” 

Scorpius nods, and hugs Draco again. 

And while he’d love to stay like this, he has someone else he needs to talk to.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I think you’re thinking about it the wrong way. You and your alternate self—that’s not the same person.” Albus smiles, but Scorpius doesn’t return it. Albus’s smile fades. “I know what you’re thinking. Those things that happened in the Dark World—it wasn’t you.” 

“Yeah, but I still did it. Not me, but…me.” Scorpius groans in frustration, puts his head down on the table. “I hate time travel.”

Albus smiles at him fondly. They’ve been talking about the logistics of what Scorpius went through in the Dark World, trying to apply logic to the whole situation. “You’re such a nerd. You know, there are some things that just don’t make sense. You can’t apply logic to it.”

Scorpius laughs. “Like the logistics of time travel?” 

“Like the logistics of time travel.” Albus stands, pulling Scorpius up with him. “C’mon. My brain is fried. We deserve to do something fun.”

“Like?”

Albus thinks for a moment. “Do you remember when we first met, and you had all those sweets on the train?”

Scorpius grins. “And steam came out of my ears?”

Albus returns the smile, laughing at the memory. That was so long ago—was it four years, now? “Yes, I think we need some of those.”

“You know me—I always have sweets.”

And they smile at each other, and Scorpius is okay.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slaps scorpius* this bad boy can fit so much trauma in him


End file.
